Maybe I'm Afraid of the Future

Motor vehicles are with us at every moment of our lives. Like any relationship, this togetherness carries memories with it. And so we give it meaning. A little less, a little more… Distances once called uncrossable get crossed, sometimes for love, sometimes for a war. Maybe distance loses its meaning. Sometimes we fly, sometimes we cross every distance on rails, on wheels. Of all these, the most enjoyable for me is being on wheels. Being inside the car. Becoming one with it and finding a flawless harmony. The roads turning into a dance floor. Feeling power and the breath of death on the back of your neck — a mechanical passion.

For some, though, this togetherness is just a tool for masculine satisfaction, for showing off, or for getting from point A to point B; far from passion and those moments full of pleasure. Just a tool.

This tool hasn't actually changed much since it first appeared. In fact, none of its basic essentials have changed. Over the years they've become more comfortable, more trouble-free, safer, more livable. Everything sounds great, doesn't it? It isn't. They lost their soul. You no longer drive the car. It steers you — and I'm not even talking about 5th-generation autonomous systems. Looking at them, I'm at least thankful, or maybe cursing, that there's still a steering wheel so our hands aren't left completely idle.

All of this visibly makes our lives easier enough. Everything is done for you. You just sit down and get to where you want to go with the “most” of everything. The future promises all these “mosts.” And it doesn't just promise — it delivers. Yet despite all these “mosts,” something is missing from what's promised. Soul. There's no soul. No mechanics. Everything is better and at the level of “most.” Everything is electronic. The age is heading that way. A shame.

Cars are ceasing to be a part of our lives and becoming refrigerators. Day by day. Actually, they already have. In other words, they make our lives easier enough — more than enough, even.

For me, the 90s were the best era for cars. A unique period that will never come back. A magnificent balance where mechanics and technology were blended together. Cars you actually drove. Naturally aspirated cars that went exactly where you turned the wheel. They weren't necessarily the fastest, but they were the most enjoyable.

Not everything needs to make our lives easier with high efficiency. They're good just as they are. Like little nuances in life, it's possible to become one with them. They almost have souls of their own. A connection with their drivers. A connection between mechanics and humankind.

Rear-wheel drive, a manual car with a locked differential. For me, that's the definition of happiness, pleasure, devotion, and freedom. An atmospheric monster that obeys your commands, spinning up to high revs. This monster doesn't need to make our lives easier, because it never claimed to in the first place.

These days, though, horsepower figures are flying through the air. Even keeping a car on the road without electronic systems has become nearly impossible. The limits have risen so high. Now every car is good. Every car now offers the user most of the basics. Even standard, everyday cars have very high limits — beyond what a normal user could ever reach.

But exceeding those limits is a double-edged sword. Everything happens at once and out of control. How much can you really steer a car you're not truly driving? The car doesn't tell you about itself, the road, or your surroundings. You're too isolated. You have no communication with the chassis. I'm not even talking about the steering wheel.

Being the case, once the limits are exceeded, all you can do inside a car that has no real communication with you is pin your hopes on the electronic systems and pray. Actually, you're lucky if you even find the time to pray. Everything happens far beyond the level of perception. In an instant.

With this age, with the future, many things are coming to an end. We keep hearing phrases like “the last naturally aspirated one,” “the last air-cooled one,” “the last mechanical differential.” In fact, an era is ending with it. The most beautiful era is ending.

In the new age, cars carry every “most” within them and drive themselves. Horses rearing up with no rider…

They're good for transportation, that's an undeniable fact. But that's not the most enjoyable and most emotional way to travel. In this age, everything is very fast now. Time too.

Despite all this, the basic roles assigned to cars don't change. Even though cars far removed from being works of art are being produced, their roles don't change. Yes, the grandfathers were more handsome, but the grandchildren deserve a chance too — at least in times when our only aim is to get from point A to point B.

Still, this soulless future scares me. It seems to have drifted far from duality. Refrigerators shaped by financial concerns are being sold as cars. Even if they play their role well, they're no different from refrigerators. Lacking character, and cold.

In short, motor vehicles affect our lives as our greatest passion. They bring us to our loved ones. We live with them, in a sense. And now they're equipped to make our lives far easier than ever.

But as this increases, they stop being a passion and become a soulless herd of robots. Even so, cars are as important as homes and, even as they lose their soul, they remain objects you can bond with. Especially the mechanical ones.

Maybe they're little nuances, like a mechanical watch. Maybe, in this fast age, they're a stop, a place to rest. Maybe they're the one hopeful cell in a cancerous tissue.